


Vacation

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: The argument isn't really about traveling, for either of them. There's more to it than that.
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Vacation

Vacation  
by eponine119  
August 20, 2020

“Phil will not shut up about that damn trip he took to Australia,” Sawyer complains over dinner. 

“He's only been back a couple of days,” Juliet advises. “Give it time.” 

Sawyer nods, and sighs, but then gets right back on it. “It's just so annoying. Didja know he went for two whole weeks? Ever heard of a kangaroo? No one's ever seen a coral reef before, or cars that drive on the left, or --” 

“You've been to Australia,” she points out. 

“I can't tell him that.” 

She raises an eyebrow, and he looks down at his plate. She thinks he's done, but then... 

“And he keeps going on about how great it was. How relaxing. How much it helped his burnout to get away. Who the hell gets burnout when their whole job is watchin' video monitors? I want to hit him with his damn boomerang.” 

“Maybe we should think about a vacation,” Juliet says, and his eyes widen like she's proposed something extraordinary. “When's the last time you took one?” 

“We countin' livin' on the beach for 93 days? Goin' to Australia? How 'bout prison? Any of those a vacation?” 

“There's no reason to get snippy,” she informs him, and gets up to clear the table. The dishes go into the sink a little bit harder than she intends them to, and she stands there and rolls her neck, wondering what they're even fighting over. 

“I ain't never had a vacation and I'm not startin' now,” Sawyer declares. 

She half-smiles at him. “Now that's just a challenge.” She looks down at the dishes and then back at him. “You know I cooked.” 

He makes a big show of putting his napkin down on the table, and getting up. He stands next to her and it's like he fills all of her senses, with the heat of his close body, and the unshowered, masculine, after-work scent that's all his own. He crowds her out of the way, running the water until it's hot and then sinking his tanned forearms into soapy water. 

“It might do us both some good,” Juliet says, standing back with the dishtowel in her hand, ready to dry but watching him wash. 

“Yeah, let's leave our tropical island for a different tropical island. Sounds great.” 

“We could go anywhere,” she says. “Indonesia. Japan. The States.” 

He looks at her. “You still wanna go home.” 

“Not home anymore,” she replies stubbornly. “You don't want to leave.” 

“That's right, I don't.” 

She rubs the stainless steel saucepan until it's dry, and places it in the cupboard. “I'd ask why not, but I already know.” 

“What we got here is fine. It's a hell of a walk in the park compared to what we been through,” he says. 

“You still think they're coming back.” It sounds like a realization, but it's not. It's just something she'd put out of her head. He hands her a glass. She thinks about how much she wants to throw it and enjoy the noise of the smashing and the scatter of broken glass. Instead, she hands it back to him. “Not clean.” 

He takes it and puts it back in the sink. “My hands are too big to get down in there.” 

“Oh no, your hands are too big to wash dishes,” she snaps sarcastically. 

“Seems to me you liked my big hands last night when they were --” 

“Stop!” she yells. 

He's glaring at her and they're both breathing hard. This is why they fight. This is also why their fights don't last long, because he takes a step toward her and then her shirt is wet with his handprints. Her back hits the refrigerator door, her head tipped back as his mouth possesses hers. She hooks one leg around his and listens to him groan. 

“Bedroom,” she sighs. 

“Uh-uh,” he denies, and she isn't going to protest. It's a good thing she didn't shatter that glass against the kitchen floor, she thinks, as his body covers hers. 

They make it to bed eventually. “If it's not the concept of a vacation that you're opposed to, we could take a break here on the island,” she says. 

“Don't start,” he says, and he's still annoyed. 

“What are you so afraid of?” 

“What's the point,” he says.

“To relax.” 

“I am relaxed,” he says. 

“Ha!” It slips out. He's starting to glare at her again. “And even if you are, maybe I'm not.” 

“I know how to make you relax,” he says, and his eyes darken as he looks at her. 

“You couldn't possibly --” 

“Try me.” His grin is charming and salacious. 

“There's no talking to you,” she scoffs. 

“That's the point,” he says, and his big hands make it impossible for her to respond. 

…

Juliet keeps thinking about it, though. Now that it's in her head, she can't let go of it. So she tries again a few nights later, after Sawyer has unwound and had his beer and seems relaxed. 

“I always wanted to travel,” she says, and it's the truth. “I wanted to see the world.” 

He grins. “Look where it got you.” 

“It's not too late,” she points out. 

He sighs and rests his head against the back of the sofa, looking at her. “Baby, I hate to fly.” 

She can't really argue with that, though she'd like to. 

“Hated it before all this,” he says, and there's no animosity in it. He's just musing over facts. “Drove all over the country. More cornfields than you can shake a stick at. You ain't missing nothing.” 

“You flew all the way to Australia.” And halfway back. 

He shakes his head. “A man does what a man has to do. But I was afraid before. Now...” He looks her in the eye. 

She thinks about the helicopter. The helicopter he jumped out of. This crazy man she loves. He'll never make sense to her. She knows if there was a plane that could take him off this island, back to 2004, he would be first in line to get on it. Fear or no fear. 

“So you're still on your vacation thing,” he says, leaning forward and putting his hands between his knees. “What's the point?” 

“It's a break? From the drudgery of our everyday lives.” 

“You think our lives are drudgery?” he asks, and as his eyebrows rise, she sees hurt flicker across his face. “Thought we had something good here.” 

“You know what I mean,” she says. “Work. Cooking, cleaning. Seeing the same things and people day after day.” 

The crease across the bridge of his nose deepens. “What're you saying, Juliet? You ain't happy?” 

“I'm happy with you and with our life together,” she says, very calmly. “What I'm saying, James, it that it might be nice to have a change of scenery.” 

He looks at her like he doesn't believe her. She closes her eyes for a second, and shrugs, and smiles. 

“We got everything we need right here. Beds, air conditioning, friends – Miles and Jin and some of those other yoyos. What would we even do on a vacation?” 

“See the sights,” she says. 

“What, go to a zoo and look at a kangaroo? Stand there starin' at a poor animal in a cage?” 

“We could go to the Sydney Opera House,” she says, and she knows she is losing. 

“That even been built yet?” he shoots back, and gets up. 

She leans forward, reaching for him. “James! Where are you going?” 

“Bathroom,” he growls. 

She puts her head into her hands. “That went well,” she says to herself. 

He comes back, and when he does, he's got a glass of whiskey. He sips it and looks at her. “I don't want to go nowhere.” 

Clearly, she thinks. “Tell me about Australia,” she says. 

“You know,” he says, and his eyes slide away. Thinking about what he did there. 

“Tell me the rest,” she invites, watching him. 

His throat works as he swallows the rest of the whiskey. He looks down at the glass, which seems delicate in his hands as he traces the rim with one fingertip. “I didn't exactly go to a museum,” he says. “Mostly I was tracking. Talking to people.” He tips his head. “I did see your Opera House, though. Like a bright white seashell in the hot sun.” She watches him breathe. “Then I found the guy. Did... what I went there to do. Saw the confusion in his eyes. Knew I'd been made a sucker.” 

His eyes glance up and meet hers, so intense she almost startles. “You gotta believe me, Juliet. I never... hurt anybody before that moment.” 

She nods, because she knows. She believes it. He's killed since then. They both have. She's still not sure she can write off everything on the island as self defense, even though it was. It weighs on her, and she knows it does on him as well. 

“Then I went and drank some more. Tryin'a get out of my own head. Got in a brawl. Rode in the cops' taxi. Cooled my heels in a cell till they kicked me out of their country. They picked one hell of a flight.” 

She wants to say she's sorry, but she can't. He wouldn't accept it, and it would sound false. She doesn't know what to say. 

“You wanna go on a vacation, we'll go on a goddamn vacation,” he says, pushing up to his unsteady feet. “Plan it, and say when, and I'll show up.” He sets the glass down on the coffee table and walks away. 

She doesn't move, listening to him moving around the bedroom, opening and closing the closet and the dresser drawers. She knows when she goes in, she'll find him lying on his side in bed, turned away from where she'll lay. His eyes will be closed, body too tense to even be pretending to sleep. If she drapes herself over him, will he pull away? She can't be sure, so she won't. 

Was it worth it, she asks herself. She doesn't care about the vacation anymore. But he told her the truth about what she thinks is his biggest secret. It's not much of a victory. She picks up the glass and takes it into the kitchen. 

Later, when she climbs into bed next to him, he says without moving, “You push me too far.” 

She tucks her knees into the backs of his, and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you,” she says, and lies there thinking about how much she needs to hear him say it back. 

…

On Thursday, when he comes in after work, he tosses her a set of keys. She catches them. “What's this?” 

“Boss is lending us his cabin for the weekend.” 

“Do you ever think it's weird that people living in a hippie commune lock their doors?” she asks. 

He shoots her a look that confirms he's both thought about it and that it's weird. “We can leave tomorrow after work.” He breezes by her to go change out of his work clothes. 

Juliet stands there, looking down at the keys, smiling at them. She looks to where Sawyer was, then slips the keys into her pocket. This will be their vacation, and he did it for her. 

(end)


End file.
